


If It Doesn't Work Out, We'll Kill 'Em

by destielkills



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-24
Updated: 2014-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-06 00:59:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1838623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destielkills/pseuds/destielkills
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You're nervous about a date, and while Dean is interrogating the poor kid, Sam gives you a pep-talk to assure you that it'll work out great! The pairing is ReaderxOC but the story's based off a Tumblr post about Sam giving you a pep-talk before a date you're really nervous about. I tried to make both the reader narration and the OC description gender-neutral so that anybody can read it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If It Doesn't Work Out, We'll Kill 'Em

**Author's Note:**

> Based off this Tumblr post: http://destielkills.tumblr.com/post/89706294638/imagine-sam-giving-you-a-pep-talk-before-a-date  
> I got told to write the thing  
> so I wrote the thing.  
> Enjoy.

You take a deep, nervous breath as you inspect your outfit in the mirror, smoothing and adjusting it one last time before rechecking your hair and finally turning away from the mirror. The doorbell rings as you grab your phone, keys, and wallet and leave your room, closing the door firmly behind you.

“I’ll get it!” Dean calls cheerily and you chuckle. Of course Dean’ll be the first face your date sees. He’s so protective. You contemplate taking the stairs two at a time like you normally do but decide that descending gracefully will make a better impression on your date than charging into the living room like an angry bull. As you get to the bottom of the stairs your date sees you and noticeably perks up, smiling a little wider as Dean crosses his arms and narrows his eyes. At the bottom step your hands start to shake and your stomach starts to flutter nervously, but you take a deep breath and will yourself to act natural.

“Hey, I’m talking to you. Do you normally disrespect your elders?” Dean growls. Your date pales and swallows.

“N-no sir.” They stammer, glancing at you worriedly. You sigh and walk over before Dean scares them away.

“Relax, Dean. This is my date, -“

“We met.” Dean grumbles but adjusts his posture into a less threatening pose. Your date smiles gratefully, the color returning to their cheeks and you notice a red rose in their hand. You nod to it questioningly and they blush, holding it out.

“This is for you.” They say quietly. “I didn’t know what flowers you like so I figured traditional is always a good way to go.”

“Thank you.” You grin, taking the rose and breathing in its sweet scent. “I’ll just put this in some water before we go.”

You turn and take a shaky breath, Dean’s whisper of “You got lucky, kid.” just audible behind you and you roll your eyes affectionately. In the kitchen Sam is already waiting with a crystal vase filled with water.

“I saw the rose when Dean answered the door.” Sam explains. “And I might have been eavesdropping.” He adds sheepishly, taking the rose and cutting the stem to fit the vase.

“Thanks, Sam.” You lean against the counter and sigh. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Do what?” Sam questions as he places the vase on a lace doily in the middle of the dining table. Why the Winchesters would ever own doilies, or crystal vases for that matter, is beyond you, but in your time living with the brothers you've learned not to question odd things like that.

“Date somebody. I’m a nervous wreck! I can’t stop shaking and I keep thinking like, what if we’re at dinner and I go to take a bite and sneeze and it gets all over the place. Or I take a drink of soda at the cinema and choke on it and die. I’m bound to make a fool of myself. I should just go out there and cancel the whole thing.” You know you’re rambling but you’re so nervous you can’t stop. Tears are building in your eyes as disastrous scenario after disastrous scenario play out in your head. With each one you become more doubtful about the entire evening and you sniff, the tears threatening to spill over.

“Woah, woah, hey,” Sam hurries over and places his hands on your shoulders. “You listen to me, (Y/N). You are going to go out there and knock this thing out of the park, you hear me? Because you are a fucking prize and anybody who doesn't see that is obviously too dumb to figure out how to win you. And if it doesn't work out,” Sam straightens up and shrugs. “we’ll kill ‘em.”

You laugh and wipe at your eyes, smiling gratefully Sam. “Thanks Sam. You always know what to say.”

“And that’s why I’m the one who talks to witnesses on cases.” He grins back, opening his arms and pulling you into a tight hug. You breathe in the scent of his cologne mixed with engine grease and whatever he made for his and Dean’s dinner. It’s a calming smell, the smell of home, and automatically you begin to relax. When he lets go you pull back and check your reflection of the microwave door.

Sam groans. “You look fine, I promise. If you don’t get out there soon Dean might scare your date away.”

You sigh. “He really needs to learn the boundaries of intimidation.” Sam shrugs but doesn’t disagree as you walk back out into the living room. Your date lights up upon seeing you again and you blush as you reach their side.

“Dean, I know you live for this whole intimidation thing, but we kind of really need to go if we’re going to finish eating in time for the movie.”

Dean sighs. “Fine. But be home at 11. Not a minute after, but preferably several minutes before. Like an hour before. Actually, are you sure you don’t want to just watch a movie on the couch in the den?”

“Relax, Dean. You’re the one who taught me how to take care of myself, after all.”

Dean shrugs. “Can’t argue with that. You two crazy kids have fun.”

You and your date turn to the door, waving at Dean and Sam, who emerges from the kitchen to stand at Dean’s side. As you catch his eye he winks and mouths “prize”, pointing two fingers at your date’s head like a gun. You roll your eyes and grin, turning forward. Your shoulder brushes with your date’s and you look at each other and giggle nervously, blushing.

“Dean is very…interesting.” Your date says cautiously and you laugh.

“Yeah, he can get kind of intense. He’s just looking out for me, though. He had a rough childhood, pretty much raised his little brother. He has that whole paternal protective instinct thing going on.” You explain, trying to stick to the barest minimum of details.

“I think that’s cool.” Your date smiles and things fall into heavy silence as you walk down the sidewalk.

You walk for a while longer before the silence and occasional accidental brushing of shoulders begins to get awkward. Remembering Sam’s pep-talk you take a deep breath and reach out, taking your date’s hand in your own. Their attention snaps toward you, eyes wide with either shock or fear. You can’t tell and it’s making you nervous, your eyes beginning to unfocus. You hope to god your hands aren’t starting to sweat, but knowing your luck just thinking that will make them sweat. Oh god, why did you agree to do this? Why did you listen to Sam, this is a terrible id- wait. Did they just thread your fingers together? And move closer? You focus your attention back on their face and they’re smiling. You smile too, grin actually. You’re so happy you feel like you’re made of helium and the only thing keeping you grounded is your fingers intertwined with your date’s. Sam was right. You’re going to knock this out of the park. Because you are a fucking prize, and your date is well on their way to winning you.


End file.
